The First Death's the Worst
by 00Derezzed00
Summary: 'The words of that filthy Noxian echoed in his mind... "The first death's the worst," he had drawled with a wry grin. Ezreal couldn't shake the unease he stirred up in him. It was those eyes of his – like coal stones dropped in milk. They looked flat, empty – dead' Ezreal witnesses, for the first time, the fall of the nexus at the hands of the blood brothers - Darius & Draaaven


The blood red status bar flashed across his HUD with pleading urgency. He looked up at the clouded-over sky and watched the fine mist – tiny particles of brick and dust – float to the ground like some lazy afternoon rain. But it wasn't rain. It was bits of the colossal East tower that loomed over the Rift, crumbling under the weight of the enemy horde. Even as it fell, it continued to spew out laser beams at the enemy like thick slabs of concentrated sunlight. Hundreds of their minions had gathered like a black, undulating sea at the third tier tower. He could barely imagine the tower falling and the horde rushing down the lane to the Nexus, like poison injected into a vein. He swallowed, and for the first time he felt fear swimming in the depths of his belly. He had never seen a Nexus fall in the battles he was summoned to. It was, in part, the reason he was summoned so often. The words of that filthy Noxian echoed in his mind. He had referred to him as _uninitiated. _  
"The first death's the worst," he had drawled with a wry grin. Ezreal couldn't shake the unease he stirred up in him. It was those eyes of his – like coal stones dropped in milk. They looked flat, empty – _dead. _  
He was shaken from his reverie by a sharp shove and it was as if he was being pulled out from under water. It was Lux. She was shouting at him, her blue eyes wild; her voice was barely audible over the shouts and screams of the minions. She was motioning at the tower and he looked back. The enemy was pushing on to it with a suicidal determination, sacrificing body upon body in its efforts to overwhelm the tower's defences. And they were succeeding. The tower could only fire in one direction at a time. There were far too many of them, a black stream stretching back into the fog and issuing out of it like toxic sludge. He raised his arm and felt the pulsefire cannon whir into motion. _"Mythic shot, armed". _PEARL's voice was calm, undeterred. He gritted his teeth and fired a single pulse into the wave. The force of it rocked him back. The luminous bolt tunnelled through the smoke towards the horde. Almost instantly, a short, ear-splitting bellow rose from behind the enemy minions – the enemy carry was warning his support, who leaped out of the bolt's trajectory. Ezreal cursed. He could see the marksman's figure silhouetted against the fires. He was probably staring back at Ezreal too, as he threw axes into the crowd. They arced back to their master, as if by some sentience, their sharp edges catching the glint of sunlight. The bolt landed, but the enemy minions simply stepped over the bodies of their slain, unfazed. He swallowed. Lux was shouting again.  
"It cannot be saved!"  
He shook his head furiously, aware of the nagging red bar flashing on his HUD that indicated the health of the tower. It was nearly gone.  
"It cannot fall," he said. He started forward, his boots crunching on the ground. The stones was spotted with blood, mingled with mud from the field. Before he joined the League, he was told the minions were artificial constructs - it terrified him when he first saw them bleed and cry in agony. His breath was catching in his throat. He had never fought so hard, and for so long. Lux was calling him back, her delicate voice carrying on the wind.  
"Ezreal! It's too dangerous!"  
It _was _dangerous, she was right about that. But wasn't what they did always dangerous? He couldn't forgo his duty to the Summoners. He had half battery power left on the suit. He bit his lip. "Mythic shot, power up," he directed. He could feel the liquid injecting into the chambers of the cannon. It sent a jitter up his arm and the battery meter dropped markedly. It was almost empty. He pushed through the minions to the frontline. He could hear his name being called. Once upon a time it was an indicator of victory to see your champion pushing to the front – it meant one thing: going in for the kill. But now, all of them on that field knew that it was a last ditch attempt to save a lost cause. He could see the face of his enemy more clearly now, circling back and forth behind the minions like a caged panther; his eyes, one of them bordered by long, misshapen scars, darted about wildly. The filthy Noxian's brother.  
"Shift," he commanded as steadily as he could. The suit jolted as the liquid injected into the framework. He was propelled forward, floating particles of energy spiralling around his teleporting form. He landed, cocked the cannon back and fired a bolt into the oncoming wave. The bolt sung as it ejected and dissolved in the remaining wave, pushing the enemies back.  
"Go!" he shouted. The minions behind him rushed forward. At that point, it seemed possible. They could fight them off. They could save the tower.  
"Take cover!" his mid-laner cried. He flicked his eyes over just as the mid tower crumbled in several pieces, showering the minions below it in blocks of rubble. They rushed forward, unaware of the carpet of bombs lying beneath them.  
"Where's our jungler?" Ezreal barked. The yordle scurried over, one hand wrapped around an unlit bomb.  
"He'll...He'll be back!" He nodded furiously and hurried past Ezreal to the fountain, muttering anxiously. Ezreal cursed. He knew what that meant.  
"Shift," he directed. The suit shuddered again and he leapt forward. There were only a few friendly minions left, and the next wave hadn't arrived yet. Suddenly, from between the darkness of the trees he was there – the enemy carry – marching out of the jungle with his detestable brother a few metres behind him. Ezreal's heart thumped wildly in his chest. It felt like it was about to split in half. He knew his name – _Draven - _but he hated saying it, knowing the egomaniac would derive great pleasure hearing it. The minions had dwindled now, leaving him to stand alone behind the tower as the two men approached. The older one was still wearing his wry lupine grin, his eyes boring into Ezreal's.  
"How's it feel weakling?" He shouted, raising his axe. Ezreal blinked, taking a step back. He flicked his eyes up at the HUD. The tower was on its last leg. A few blows would do it. He took another step, aware suddenly that the hulking figures weren't stopping out of range of the tower. They stalked forward like a pair of wolves.  
"Port back!" he heard Lux shout. There was a tremor in her voice, and though he felt a sudden, vice like grip on his heart at the sound of her pleading, he didn't move. He felt rooted to his spot, baffled at the sight before him. The top laner's eyes barely flinched as the tower's beam hit his armour, leaving a red-hot spot like a welt on the chest piece. The beam split in two and tiny particles bounced up off his chest plate and sliced his jaw. The flesh startled to sizzle and curl, a thin stream of blood sluicing down his neck. Ezreal staggered back as Draven threw his axe, once, twice, and the tower imploded with a deafening crack. It fell to pieces and the two men stepped over the last vestiges of a destroyed society. Ezreal swallowed, glancing to his left. The enemies had advanced on the inner turrets, the last stand before the Nexus. He rapidly glanced at the HUD and turning, shouted, "Shift!" PEARL obliged, and he was propelled forward. He landed a few metres from fountain, almost losing his footing. Behind him, the brothers had advanced. He could hear the thud of boot on stone. He was certain of the sound, and he knew what was coming. The infamous pull. He rushed forward, noting passingly that the one of the last towers had fallen. _Not long now, _he thought grimly, his heart hammering unevenly. A ball of blinding light passed by his side, forcing him to squint. He glanced up at Lux, whose face was wet with tears, her hand outstretched to him. It was then he felt it, the rush of air in the wake of the swinging of an axe.  
"Flash!" he shouted, and for a moment he felt like he was not there – not anywhere, but suspended between time, place and form – and then, as if being awoken from a spell of sleep-walking, he found himself standing on the first steps of the fountain, confused. Her arms were around him, and he could hear her voice in his ear. What was she saying? Telling him it would be okay, that it wasn't so bad, that afterwards things would be a little different. "Just a little", she murmured, her lips brushing his ear. He turned at the sound of another voice. A victorious snarl that would've been a laugh. The Nexus was dying, rapidly. He could feel the fountain getting colder, descending from a cool respite into an icy grip. It was lighting up too. The Summoning was done. The energy drained from his body. Weakness descended on him like a cloak, and between the blinding rays of light he could see Darius standing in front of the Nexus as his comrades destroyed it. He was staring at Ezreal, and those dead eyes were alight with a bloodthirsty glee.  
"Scurry, weakling."  
A bright spark erupted from the centre of the Nexus, and he knew it was over. He glanced at the champions beside him, and he wondered with a hint of panic what he would be like after. He took Lux's hand and held it between his gloved hands. She had squeezed her eyes shut and was pressing her head against his shoulder, quivering almost imperceptibly. A sudden, searing pain seized him and he let out a strangled cry, feeling unwitting tears spring to his eyes. He felt like his very limbs were wrapped with flame. A booming voice erupted about them.  
"Defeat!"  
He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes, feeling his mind twisting and turning under the weight of the agonising pain. An unexpected alien bubble of rage rose in him. It was like lava swimming in his veins, racing up his spine and flooding his brain, wresting control from him. Suddenly, he thought angrily of the citizens of Valoran, the onlookers and spectators, the instigators, the indirect participants in their cyclical deaths - _in her deaths_ \- and he felt so bitter he could taste bile in his mouth. What wouldn't he give to decimate them all, in one sweeping trueshot barrage that travelled the world over? Perhaps that was what he would do when he returned. He would show them true death. He would show them the true victor. Suddenly, he felt Lux move at his side, and her warm breath on his neck. He blinked.  
"Banish the shadows," she whispered to him, and he jerked his head. She had opened her eyes. They were searching his face, as if she was looking for _him_ in there. His throat moved. Like a light switch going on, he felt his mind surge back to him.  
"I- I'm here" he stuttered. "I'm here." She nodded. "I know." She brushed away a strand of damp hair that had fallen in his eye. The fountain was now a portal of blinding light. He felt the weightlessness, and knew they were returning home. He shut his eyes and he squeezed her hand, and together they waited.


End file.
